The world burns in stages.
First and most succinct,
The partial flame, a pyre to the dead,
An ode to those who suffer.
Burning silently among the detritus,
Memories of the past lay broken and strewn.
Naught but ephemeral bodies in a graveyard of dreams.
The tallow burns, it burns dispassionately
Creeping inexorably towards ruin
It is a lustful flame, it consumes
Even the ashes of its own passing.
Nothing is left to mourn.
C’est la dernière flamme.
The world burns in stages,
It burns completely.

Like this:

Often, I think adding context to what I try to expressing will – somehow – extract appreciation from at least one person who reads or experiences it.

Why should I shape your experiences? Where is the joy in having a fruit eaten for you?

its juices extracted and regurgitated. Tainted and tinted with the perception of another.

What I intend and what is received by the reading may not be the same.

There is some fun – perhaps – in wading through this small stream in the presence of one’s own company.

Thus, I shall remain tranquil and be satisfied with the reading.

Synaesthesia

In moments of silence
I converse with the multitude.
We revel in the sensory,
No why’s or wherefore.
First, tastes blossoms
My tongue , heavy with
The nectar of summer’s flower.
As it blooms my vision alights
O’er awed in its fullness
Colours flits across a rippling surface
Suppleness flowing into taut awakenings
Brilliant green melding into cerulean blues
A synaesthetic orchestra.

Like this:

I have just had an epiphany. I realise why some people do not like me. I’m just too lovable. No, seriously, I am.
There is one caveat though, I am not lovable in the conventional sense. I am more of a “Love you so much I wish I could kill you and not go to jail for the rest of my life” kinda guy.

What can I say? I inspire people to reach a plateau of great passionate intensity. Whether or not this is a euphemism; that is for you to decide.

Over the years my Wit and I have allegedly run roughshod over people and their opinions of me and the world at large. I must confess, at this stage, I feel I deserve a Nobel Peace prize. Simply for staying alive this long. I cannot say I do not marvel at the fact that I have not been a victim of mob violence, instigated by my verbal witticisms.
However, they cut me to the quick. To be honest, I mean no harm. Scouts honour. Let not the fact that I am not a scout, nor I have never been a scout or harbour any internal desires to this end. Sully your perception of my oath as previously delivered.

One of the great literary devices is flashback. Some may find it cliché, but it does serve a purpose. Let me employ this now to prove to you how my wit and I have been wronged.

Without further ado:
I have this friend who appreciates wit. On account possess a modicum of it, this thing called wit.
For the sake of brevity – his name is quite long – let us call him ‘Ham’. Please note, I am not saying that he is a Pig who has become my friend due to a posthumous miracle. This is just a pun on his name.

Ham, liked this girl called… Phrenic. (Phernic is the pseudonym I will use for her)
Like the great friend that I am, I decided to help Ham get the girl. With regular women, Ham needed no help. However, Phrenic was.. well, let’s just say, Phrenic was not your average woman. I have always made it clear that I believe: “SANITY-! is for the weak“. Phernic – on the other hand – was quite Herculean; her motto should have been: “Hercules..! ain’t got nothing on me!” While pounding her chest for emphasis.

To continue: I decided to help him by being me: very forward in speech. To this end, I was listing all of Ham’s good qualities. Something that really stressed my ability to equivocate. However, my efforts seemed to have been wasted. Phrenic was having none of my spiel.

This is how it went:

Me: Phrenic, Ham is really a great guy. You too would make a lovely couple.

Phrenic stopped looked at me and said: “You know, I thought cupid would have been cuter”

Let me tell you, I was shocked, appalled, devastated! That she so readily eschewed my subtle verbal hints to give Ham a chance at ‘love’.

I looked a Phrenic, smiled and responded: “Well if YOU were any cuter, you wouldn’t have needed cupid”

To say she was not amused, would have been an understatement. She stood stock still for a moment and looked at me. If looks could kill I would be a dead. And not quickly either.
As the evidence clearly displayed. I was merely being a good friend. Phrenic decided to counter my friendly suggestion by being pro argumentum ad hominem. My response was just my witty recourse.

What made the situation worse was Ham. Ham, being the poster boy for ‘I have no tact’, started laughing. The type of laughing that involves not just your vocal cords, but your entire body.
Ham is a sturdy fellow, every now and then he practices Martial Arts; so I assume he has good, if not excellent balance.
However, on this occasion Ham was laughing so hard he had to lean on a wall for support to lower the imminent risk of falling to the ground and rolling around in the dirt in fits of laughter.

I will not lie to you. His laughing was infectious. I doubt she ever forgave me for that moment of cerebral alacrity.

Needless to say, Ham never got the girl.

Just in case you were wondering, my Wit and I have recovered from the injustice. So, you see I am really a great guy and a good friend. I am just a tender soul that has been misunderstood and treated unfairly.

People these days, never appreciate anything good.

I hope this alleviated some of your misgivings on the nature of my personality. I feel that you have seen and understood the nature of the injustice I have to suffer through.
Alas! Do not worry, I am resilient. They can’t keep a good man down!